Of Blood, Misfits and Fighters
by huff-slyn-dor-claw
Summary: AU. The Wizarding World according to blood purity rather than house. This story follows the life of a muggle-born genius, a mess-haired half-blood, a ginger blood traitor, and a struggling pureblood. It is through them that defines what it really means to be a great wizard. Rated T. *NEW and UPDATED version of (of misfits and fighters)!*
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This all might seem a little confusing but most of it will make sense later I promise! and the following chapters will be longer as well. Hope you enjoy this preview (sorta).  
**

_Wizarding Governments Through the Centuries:_

_A Student's Guide to Today's Society and Ways of Life_

_As a product of today's wizarding world, you are most likely familiar with the way out society works, and the theories that uphold and collaborate with it. But, it has not always been this way. In fact, there was once a whole different way of living before this new age. This informational pamphlet will walk you through the history and how this efficient and effective way of today's wizarding world came to be. _

_In the 9th century, four of the greatest wizards of their time came to together to change the future of wizards and witches forever. They were: Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gyffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and, our founding Father, Salazar Slytherin. Together, they proposed the idea of creating a school for students of magic ability where they would learn how to master their capabilities and become the finest wizards the world had yet to see. Upon creating the revolutionary idea, a conflict had arisen between the four of them: which sort of wizards should be accepted into their school. Excluding Slytherin, the other three founders wanted all types of students; muggle-borns, half-bloods and purebloods alike, for the three did not see the threats muggle-borns and half-bloods posed on the purity in the wizarding community._

_Fortunately, Slytherin did, and insisted on making the school for purebloods only. He knew it was right for the wizarding community. Although it took much persuading and action from the founder, Slytherin finally did get his wish. So, it was decreed that the new school, Hogwarts, would be a place for purebloods to come and learn and also strengthen and purify their race. Now, muggle-borns and half-bloods were not forgotten or abandoned, they set up smaller schools on the outskirts of the wizarding town, Hogsmeade, that all young wizards live in and as they still do today. _

_This went on for centuries, until the year of the Great War. The Great War was a dark time around a century ago when muggle-born and half-bloods questioned their place in society. Because of this extremist and negative way of thinking, the purebloods did the heroic act of taming it, but the cost of thousands of lives. In addition, a new blood class of wizards erupted, the blood-traitors and a new social system and contract had formed, one that still used as of this day. As a result of all the chaos, rivalry, and backstabbing, Hogwarts was no more. The purebloods created a new school fro themselves: The Academy of Authentic Wizardry._

_To ensure that this type of rebellion would never occur again, the descendants of the Slytherin family created a set of laws, The Purification Laws, which all wizards and witches were to abide by. Because of these consequences of the Great War, our world has never been safer and more protective of purity and blood class. It is these laws that make our government, society, and daily lives peaceful and successful._

_Here is some of the terminology that you may find useful when reading this information pamphlet._

_Blood Classes_

_(in order of social rank)_

_Purebloods -" Wizards and witches of a lineages where magic is prominent on both sides of the descendant. Many are descendants or distant relatives of the founders and are excellent examples of wizards that should be followed by other classes._

_Blood-traitors -" Purebloods who turned their backs against the right views and ideas of race superiority. They are a product of the Great War. Although it is rarely seen, blood-traitors may work their way up to the status of purebloods._

_Half-Bloods -" Wizards and witches who have one parent that is either a muggle-born or half-blood and the other either muggle-born, half-blood or pureblood. They pose a manageable threat to our society, therefore are associated with caution._

_Muggle-borns -" Wizards and witches with muggle parents. These individuals pose the most dangerous threat in contamination of the pure race of wizards in our world. They are known to have little magic ability. _

_The Purification Laws_

_1. In order to be admitted to The Academy of Authentic Wizardry, the attendee must ne pureblood. No exceptions._

_2. Intermarriage within the four blood classes of wizards is strictly prohibited._

_3. Procreating, or the process of, within the four different blood classes in strictly prohibited._

_4. Inter-housing within the four blood classes is strictly prohibited._

_5. Each blood class is mandated to follow their own rules of conduct that their that their blood class leaders are enforcing. _

_6. None of the previous laws stated above or any rules on any of the codes of conduct may be revised, dismissed, ignored, or exchanged without the consent of the leading pureblood family._

_7. Any wizard or witch that fails to cooperate with any of the Purification Laws or Codes of Conduct rules, and is reported, will be in the hands of the security officials._

Hermione's eyes scanned the pamphlet fervently, taking in all the information she possible could. She tried to remember the last time she came across something new to read, it was weeks perhaps. Hermione was so engrossed in the artificial words, that she forgot what she was supposed to be doing: scrubbing her boss's floor. Although she memorized the laws and codes by heart, it was the history that caught her attention. She was reading the last few lines when she suddenly heard the footsteps of her boss come into earshot. Hermione quickly slipped the folded paper into the waist of her skirt uniform, gathered the bucket and brush, and stood up. She barely had time to turn around before he grabbed her by the collar and pulled her into his chest.

"What were you doing there, mudblood?" he whispered down her neck. Hermione scrunched her nose at the smell of firewhiskey.

"Nothing. I was just finishing up," Hermione replied, she was used to this sort of treatment. She could feel his hand starting to creep up inside her shirt.

"What was that?" he demanded. Her skin burned at his touch, and yet his fingers still snaked up her side.

"I was just finishing up, _Master Goyle_," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

Goyle's hand soon found the seam of her bra, and eyed her hungrily. Hermione quickly pushed it out. Goyle snickered.

"We don't want last week's encounter to happen again, do we?" Hermione shut her eyes closed at the memory. Goyle had violated law #3 of the Purification Laws and that it was the second worst day of her life. That was all she chose to remember about it.

"Of course not, Master Goyle," she said, her brain seething with fury.

"Good," He threw Hermione off him and reached in his pocket for a bag of money and shoved it at her.

"Now get out of here, mudblood." Goyle growled.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She raced out the door and down the grand marble staircase, and made sure no one was watching her. When no one was, she disapparated.

A few moments later, she reappeared in her room. Hermione figured that her three roommates were most likely eating the last of their dinners in the hall, so she usually used this time to get dressed and clear her mind. It was a small room, big enough for two bunk beds and one dresser in which the girls kept all their clothes and belongings in. There was also a small window in the corner, which barely let in any sunlight or fresh air. Hermione slept in the bottom left bunk, the one with the thin, dingy, plaid sheet and a lump for a pillow. The top bunks had the nicer pillows and blankets, seeing as the younger girls slept in them. The faintly striped wallpaper was peeling off, it was bound to all fall off any time soon. The floor's wooden planks were loose and sometimes in the cover of night, she could make out the outlines of mice squeezing out of them. The conditions in which they lived in were horrible, but their company made it tolerable.

Hermione suddenly remembered about the paper. She pulled it out of her waist and hid it under her sheet for further examination. She undressed into her nightgown and laid out her uniform for ironing in the morning. Hermione was on her way out to eat her meal, if there was any left, when she heard a sudden thudding on the window.

"Open up it's me," said an all-too familiar voice. She ran to the window and pulled back the drapes and slid up the glass, revealing a boy with untidy black hair and round glasses to match.

"Harry!" Hermione said, enthralled that her friend had come to see her.

"Hey. Where is everyone?" Harry noticed her roommates were gone, for they usually were around.

Hermione jerked her chin up, "They're eating right now. What brings you here?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, just checking up on you. How've you been?"

Hermione tensed up a bit. No, she wasn't doing fine but she'd rather not admit it to Harry. It was her issue to tackle, not his.

"I've...been good," she said, faking a smile. "It's just-"" she debated about telling him but decided against it. "How about you?" she hastily transitioned.

Harry took the time to study his friend's face. Her eyes lacked their usual confidence and she seemed distraught, something she rarely was. It could've only meant one thing; Hermione was far from angry, she was infuriated.

After a few silent moments, Harry said, "What happened at Goyle's?"

From the corner of Hermione's eye, she could see Harry's knuckles turn white from clutching the window pane. She forgot how well Harry knew her. It was almost impossible to hide anything.

She sighed, irritated. "Harry, I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Hermione…" Harry warned. His emerald eyes were starting ignite with fury.

"I'm fine," Hermione said curtly. She knew that he could see right through her, but there was nothing her could do about the situation.

Harry shook his head. "Quit the job." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I can't! No one else is hiring my blood class!" she said. "Besides, Goyle's so thick that he hasn't realized he's paying me more than he should." Hermione gave a hallow laugh.

"It's not worth it, Hermione!" Harry urged. In the distance he could hear the laughter of other muggle-borns and the weary clinking of spoon and forks.

"I am a muggle-born! I don't have a choice!" she breathed, which spurred another awkward silence.

"Well, if you still adamant about leaving, at least give him hell about it. Secretly. I've see you do things with a wand I never though possible."

Usually Hermione would blush under the praise, but the comment only irritated her more.

"Honestly Harry, it's like you purposely forget that I'm not a half-blood," she said, trying her best to bite back the bitterness coating her tongue.

Harry dropped his gaze to his knees. She was right, as she always was. He had forgotten that muggle-borns weren't allowed to bring their wands to work. It left Hermione defenseless.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled guiltily. Hermione nodded in acceptance. "Speaking of which, where exactly _is_ your wand?" he asked, peering over her should. It almost always was lying in her bed.

"It was confiscated," she said acidly.

"What? How so?" he questioned.

"Evidently, I was performing 'too advanced magic' for my 'skill level'," It was never clear to Harry how Hermione knew so much about magic when her "classes" were barely teaching simple summoning spells. But the thought of Hermione defying the system made him smirk.

"So, what did you do?"

"I was trying-and succeeding-"to heal Isabel's burn," she said. Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Well, when do you get it back?"

"On Friday," Hermione was counting the days, by the hour. She turned her attention to the clock on the wall, the hands read that it was almost 9 o'clock.

"Is that the time? Sorry Harry, it's nearly curfew," Hermione said sadly, "I've got to check in."

Harry nodded, "So do I, I'll see you around then," he then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself." Harry left the window and started is half mile journey home.

Hermione waved goodbye and shut the window. Then, she went upstairs to join the others. The eating hall was scattered with late-night wizards who were finishing eating or simply did not want to go to sleep. Among them was Hermione's good friend Elizabeth who waved "hello" and continued to chat away with Colin Creevy. Hermione smiled and made her way to the attendance room, where she should've been 10 minutes ago. It was located at the end of a long hallway, one she didn't take time walking through. To her, it reminded her of the hallways seen in mental institutions, they were cold and fatigued. She picked up her pace, not wanting to linger longer than necessary. She reached the end and gently twisted the doorknob, and walked into the room. Seeing that she was late, once again, Mrs. Burbage was on her case.

"Late again, Ms. Granger?" said Mrs. Burbage, looking over her newspaper. Hermione dipped her head in apology. home

"Sorry, Mrs. Burbage. I just was busy," Hermione replied, grabbing a quill from her desk politely.

The blood class leader made a disapproving noise. "Well, we are _all_ busy here. That's the third time this month."

"I know, I promise I'll be better about it. I won't be late anymore," reasoned Hermione, desperately. She didn't want _more_ privileges taken away. She hastily scribbled her signature on the name chart.

"We will see, Ms. Granger," remarked Mrs. Burbage, her face was hidden behind the paper, deeply absorbed. Hermione nodded in agreement. For as long as Hermione had known Mrs. Burbage, she always kept her word.

"Thank you," she said and smiled gratefully, exiting her way out. As she did so she yawned and decide that it was time to turn in. She thought about stealing a quick conversation with Elizabeth but her heavy eyelids ordered her not to.

By the time she reached her sleeping quarters, the rest of her roommates were settling down and climbing up or into their blankets. Hermione's eyes flickered towards the window, just making sure that Harry hadn't come back. But as she did so, her heart sank a bit. She was so lucky to have a friend like him to talk to, even though they weren't supposed to associate with each other, and she regretted quarreling with him earlier. She promised herself that she would make it up to him the next time she saw him, whenever that would be. She let out a deep sigh and ducked into her bed.

As she pulled on her measly sheet, she felt her hand press against something rough; the pamphlet. Excitement built up inside her chest, she could finally examine the words at her leisure, and there was no disgusting Goyle to dictate her.

"Penelope," Hermione turned her roommate, who was braiding her long, dense hair, "may I borrow your wand? Just for the night?"

Penelope looked at Hermione skeptically. Penelope always had an issue with Hermione, whenever Hermione would learn something new or practice "illegal" spells, Penelope would always threaten to tell Mrs. Burbage. In fact, she was the very reason why Hermione's wand was somewhere locked away in a drawer at the very moment.

"I just need it as a light, that's all." assured Hermione, giving a light laugh at Penelope's dark stare.

Penelope thought it over more a few minutes more before reluctantly giving Hermione her wand.

"If it gets taken away, I'm going to tell Mrs. Burbage about that boy that keeps visiting at the window," Penelope threatened and finished her braid.

The youngest of the girls, Keeta, tried suppressing a gasp, but failed. Her short blond curls bounced with suspense.

"Sure, as long as I get to tell her about your "meetings" with the ginger boy," Hermione shot back, Penelope 's eyes narrowed and opened her mouth to continue but she said nothing more.

From behind Keeta's blankets, Hermione made out a 'hah!'.

Satisfied, Hermione slip out the pamphlet and began to read the lines over an over. She stopped at the line, 'they are known to have little magic ability'. What began as anger turned into determination.

"We'll see about that," she whispered to herself, as she tucked the paper under her pillow. The clock read midnight, and Hermione's mind was wide awake.

* * *

**Reviews and constructive criticism is GREATLY appreciated! Did you like it? Hate it? And it will get more iteresting as it goes on, I swear! Reviewers get a pet chinchilla! :D Thanks for reading! **

**-hsdc**


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining. It was raining harder that it had in months. The massive waves of pouring water muddled the mansions front yard. Big swirls of mud circled the stone walkways and his shoes made sloshing sounds while stepping about the puddles. Although the mansion already had a dull and monotone color scheme, the rain did nothing to soften the look. In fact, it only made the house appear more sinister.

His hands curled around the cold, black metal gates and he stubbornly flicked his wand. The gates opened with ease. His wet hair matted against his forehead, he was drenched from head to toe. Normally he would produce some form a charm in a situation like this, but he had no energy left and dissapparating in the rain was dangerous. So he was told. From behind him a little white peacock squawked indignantly. The wizard lazily looked down past his shoulder, the rolled his eyes.

"I'll fetch her later," he muttered and marched up the manor steps. He entered his home to find a number or wizards and some witches occupying the entrance room. Among the small crowd he spotted his mother carrying a conversation with another blond witch. He sighed deeply and made his way up his ancient wooden staircase. He did not feel like sticking around for what seemed to be another pointless meeting- which he was never allowed to attend anyway. He took one last look at the stony faces of their company, his company, before he went to his room and closed the door behind him.

The faint pitter and patter of wet shoes drew Narcissa's ear away from the conversation for a moment. It was three thirty in the afternoon and the meeting was just about to start in a few minutes. As the selected host for the event, she had many rapid thoughts running through her head the entire day. _How many guests are coming? Should they be let to roam around the house? Where was Lucius? Are they going to be dissapparating? What will He make of this? Where was the maid? When was Draco coming home? _Fortunately for Narcissa, many of her questions were seen to throughout the day. Only a few remained unanswered. When she made out her son's slippery footsteps above the soft rumble of small talk, one more question was crossed off her list and she put herself to ease once more.

She returned her attention back to her guest, who took no notice of Narcissa's distant stare and continued to talk in a thoughtful manner.

"... we've been at this for quite some time and it's a miracle that it is finally coming together," said Mrs. Greengrass, a good friend of Narcissa. She was a very conserved women who's family was well known within the pureblood community. Although she ironically had an appetite for gossip, her heart was set in the right place; which was with the communities' efforts for a superior blood class. Mrs. Greengrass politely sipped her wine, staring at her friend curiously.

"Narcissa?"

Mrs. Malfoy blinked, "Yes?"

"That was your son Draco, was it not?" Mrs. Greengrass's bright blue eyes wondered.

"Why, yes. Yes it was," Narcissa answered, caught off guard with her question.

Mrs. Greengrass rose an eyebrow.

"Well aren't you going to invite him to the meeting? It is by far the most important one. I'm sure I remember our Master saying he would like _all_ to attend," she said in amusement.

"Oh, of course. I'll go get him now. Thank you," Narcissa replied, pressing down her emerald dress, visibly flustered. Her opinion about letting her son into the gathering fluctuated, but Lucius thought it best for him to join them and observe the topics- saying that it was never to early to show him the right ways of the world.

Narcissa quietly excused herself and weaved her way out of the crowd. Suddenly her foot slid from under her, causing her to slip and she grasped the nearest shoulder.

"I'm terribly sorry, Yaxley. The floor's a bit moist. I'll have to get my maid right on it," she apologized and deeply aware of her flushed cheeks.

The short, thin-haired Yaxley grunted and turned away.

The hostess breathed in to call her maid, but promptly remembered she was not here at the moment. She exhaled, lightly shook her head, and traveled up the staircase in search of Draco. When she reached his room she knocked on the door.

"Draco," she called through the wood. There was a sudden rustle, then her son's pale and tired face appeared in front of her.

"Yes?" he said, maybe a little too tersely of Narcissa's liking. Something was obviously the matter, but there wasn't enough time to investigate.

"If it's not to much trouble," Narcissa began pointedly, while narrowing her eyes at her son's tone, "we want you to come down and join us. I'm assuming some of you friends," Draco snorted, "will be there as well. The meeting will be starting shortly."

Draco's grey eyes held a skeptic glare.

"Why the sudden change in heart?"

"Why the sudden attitude, Draco? You speak to me as if I'm your father," Narcissa shot back but disguising her hurt demeanor with a tight smile. She was not going to get angry before one of the biggest, if not the biggest, meetings of the year.

Draco lowered his eyes to the floor. She was right, and she didn't deserve his attitude

"Sorry, mother," he started," I've had a hell of a day." His mother nodded understandingly.

"Get dressed and be downstairs in five minutes," Draco watched his mother go down the staircase. He closed is door, changed, and within three minutes he exited his room and went in to the Grand Hall.

There was a long, broad table that took up most of the space in the rather spacious room. A few dozen chairs lined and skirted the dark wooded table where most of their company had already claimed their seats. There was the empty mantle hugging the side of the hall, and for as long as the yound wizard could remember the fireplace had never been used until now. It created a warm sensation through the room, one Draco was so unaccustomed to. His eyes roamed the faces of guests again until they met with a similar but colder pair. Lucius gestured his son impatiently to his seat, which was located to his left. Draco hastily crossed the room and lowered himself into his chair. He recognized a few familiar faces about the table. A couple seats down from him Vincent Crabbe was waving his wand in an idiotic fashion. Gregory Goyle was burning a hole into the table- not with his wand but rather his eyes. His stare was only accented more with a few bruises he was sporting on his face, Draco made a a mental note to himself to tease him about it later. In his peripheral vision he made out a growling Millicent Bullstrode as Pansy Parkinson talked her ear off. Draco felt the smallest pang of sympathy for the thick, oddly not pureblood, girl. He stretched his head casually, looking for Zambini, one of the only friends he truly valued, but was interrupted by a low growl from his left.

"Stay put, Draco. You look like a fidgeting weasel."

Lucius Malfoy grabbed his son's elbow and abruptly pulled him down to table level. Draco was just about to challenge his father when he was suddenly stopped. Not by a hand, or a person, but by the loudest, most eerie silence Draco had ever heard. Almost in nanoseconds the entire room was quelled in an instant, Pansy herself stopped taking and one could only hear the soft crackle of the fire, and even _it_ seemed to quell.

All the wizards in the room turned their heads to the sound of the vast doors creaking open to reveal a man standing in the doorframe. He was a tall wizard with a pallid complexion and dark brown hair that curled slightly in the front of his forehead, which added to his strikingly handsome features. His face was long and his dark eyes glazed over the room with a certain nefarious quality. The wizard was clearly someone who's appearance demanded to be paid attention, and definitely not ignored.

Draco averted his eyes to the woman standing next to the man and instantly recognized her as his aunt Bellatrix. Her jet back, curly hair framed her face and hung down her back as she tilted her dead upwards in admiration and awe of the man. This was the first time Draco or Narcissa could recall her _ever _having the slightest interest in _anyone_. There were many firsts today for Draco. Slowly and quietly they strode across the room, his eyes on the guests, their unwavering yet timid eyes on him. He slid out a chair and seated himself at the head of the table, and Bellatrix took a seat next her sister.

Pleased by the dramatic reaction, Bellatrix announced, "To those who had not the fortune to meet him," she directed her gaze to the youngest wizards in the room, "This is our Lord and Master, Sir Thomas Riddle."

Interested, Draco leaned into the table to better view of the man. The corners of his Lord's mouth lifted slightly into a smirk.

"Thank you, my dear Bellatrix." If possible, the thinnest shade of pink rose to her cheek, and she ducked her head in gratitude. By this time all of Draco's classmates were engrossed with this new face.

"I think it's time we begin. I think it's time to finally show you what you were all destined for, and what I have planned for the wizarding world."

* * *

Hermione stared at the piece of crumpled paper for hours. She was very indecisive about going over to the bookstore and asking this _Ron Weasley_ character something that may get her in a tangle with the law enforcement. Who knew who this guy could be, he might just be another stuck up pureblood wizard just working his shifts as a something-to-do job. And as soon as she asks about the books and matter she is interested in, the ones that were prohibited due to her blood class, he won't hesitate to summon the Snatchers. But if he wasn't...

"I think you should do it," Elizabeth said simply.

Hermione sighed pensively, "Okay, but what if he is this nasty pureblood who will not tolerate my questions, especially the subject of the books, and have me promptly sent to that, what was it? Asylum? Did you her about that?"

Elizabeth swung her legs off the bed, "No, I did not. Seeing that we are not _allowed_ to have that kind of information here," she shot Hermione a mock disapproving look, "I can't imagine where you get that information from."

Hermione sometimes forgot she was breaking the rules, probably more times than she could count. She let herself wallow in her guilt.

"Well?!"

"Well what?" Hermione muttered. She was surprised that she hadn't got caught by now. First, she violated a pureblood-in his own home- and she was meeting up secretly with a half-blood, plus she was practicing spells that she was not allowed to even think about attempting.

"Are you going to tell me?!"

Elizabeth stared at Hermione in wonder. Hermione just stared back in confusion.

"I was joking you know. I'm not really mad at you. Well, not right now anyway. But I might be if you don't start watching your back," Elizabeth warned. Relief flooded Hermione, she laughed and threw a pillow at Elizabeth.

"Stop making me feel awful! Maybe I shouldn't go. I'll just be breaking another rule, and get closer to getting caught." Hermione decided.

"Now hold on a minute. What if this guy is not a pureblood-"

"But what if he is. Mostly only purebloods manage, own, and work at the shops."

"But what if he isn't!" Elizabeth persisted, "What if he is not and BAM! You have instant knowledge of every book, spell, counter curse, charm, potion imaginable! C'mon, Hermione. I can see it in your eyes, you would be in heaven. All you need to do is ask nicely." Hermione mulled the thought over. Before she could reply, a pallid looking Penelope entered the room.

She looked around at the two girls, one was sitting on her bed.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Hermione whipped her head up, "Well, not exactly-"

"No," Elizabeth interjected, giving a light smile. "No, nothing at all."

Penelope's suspicious gaze flickered across both girls. It was then that Hermione saw a faint tear track on Penelope's cheek.

"Penelope, are you okay?" she asked as delicately as she could. Her roommate wasn't keen on sharing feelings.

Penelope opened her mouth to respond, but found herself trying to grasp the right words. In the end, she couldn't so she settled with,"You're on my bed."

"Oh right. Sorry," Elizabeth jumped of the bottom bunk and gave Penelope her space back. Penelope shuffled over to her bed, but instead of laying on it, she started to fold her thin sheet and placed he pillow at the end of the bed, very slowly, almost reluctantly. An awkward silence once again filled the room.

"Well, I best be getting to, uh, the loo. Don't wait up." With that, Elizabeth shot out the doorway.

Hermione was not used to being alone in a room with Penelope. It wasn't the fact that Hermione didn't like her, it just never occurred. And if Hermione didn't know any better, she would say that her roommate was just rearranging her things. Realistically she did know better, and it was clear to Hermione that her roommate was packing, and very sad about it. Which got Hermione thinking, ever since she was eleven, when she first arrived here, never has anyone left this dwelling, or switched rooms for that matter.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Penelope instantly stopped moving. She was going to lift her trunk from under her bed and take out what little clothes she had from the dresser and pack it up. In fact, today she was going to go out on another great date and spend some time with her friends and finally learn how to master a few of the trickier spells in the books they were given. But not anymore. Penelope sniffed loudly.

"Yeah. I am."

It was just a hoarse whisper, but Hermione heard it.

Hermione fidgeted on her bed uneasily, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Penelope thought about it. It was going to be the last conversation she probably was going to have with Hermione, so she might as well. She wiped her eyes before she faced her roommate and settled in on her raw bed. The two girls were now face to face, one waiting for the other to start.

Penelope inhaled deeply and began in a stable tone. "I was told to go into Lady Umbridge's office this morning, she wanted to talk to me about something she had read in my files. Something that stood out to her. So, I went to her office and she read certain papers of my file and it turns out my mother has been lying to me. Anyway, sorry, wrong topic," Penelope quickly covered up, before Hermione had the chance to say anything, "Lady Umbridge went over a few of the rules of the Muggleborn house and said that I was ineligible to stay here any longer."

"What?" Hermione asked, aghast.

Penelope ranted on, " I'm leaving Hermione. I can't stay here anymore. It-"

"What did she exactly say to you?" Hermione said in a measured voice, she could already hear Penelope's voice starting to quiver.

Her roommate bit her nails, "She said that it didn't even matter if I stayed in this place anyway. I wasn't going to have a future. No muggleborn girl could ever really _do_ something. I could never make it big, none of us can. She said I would just carry with the future that was made for us in the first place, graduate, marry someone in your blood class, and have children. End of story. And here I was dreaming, _wishing_ that I could do something more. But like I said, it doesn't even matter."

"_What_ doesn't matter, Penelope?"

"Hermione, I'm not a muggleborn! I'm a half-blood! Turns out, my father was a wizard. I was too young to know that he was- that is before he died. And my mum knew the entire time! She purposely sent me here knowing that I could have had at least a slightly better life has a half-blood. And she kept it away from me!" By this time Penelope's usually braided hair had come undone and fresh tears leaked from her closed shut eyes.

Hermione waited for the sobs to lessen. She got up off her bed and joined her roommate, stroking her back to pacify her crying.

"But how could she know?" Hermione wondered aloud, "_someone_ must have known somehow. Who could possibly know your lineage, when you yourself don't even know! Furthermore, what would be the point in revealing that you are a half-blood? It's no use to them! Unless..."

Hermione's thoughts only made Penelope cry even harder than before. It was difficult for Hermione to hear coherent sentences coming from her.

"It- was that-piece of...Merlin. I never thought- it- oh god! How could I have... such an idiot. Such a stupid excuse for- boyfriend-"

"It was your _boyfriend? _Your boyfriend turned you in?!"

Penelope's body shook as she wiped wet face on her nicely folded sheets. With her wand, Hermione summoned tissues form the room adjacent to theirs. The magic seemed to transfix Penelope for a few moments, and then she returned to crying.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

Hermione tried not to take the comment personally, but it did sting a little. She just shrugged her shoulders in response.

"It's okay. I never really-"

"Mrs. Clearwater! It has been fifteen minutes! Your carriage is waiting by the entrance!" shouted Lady Umbridge down the hallway, in a strained whisper. Undoubtedly because she didn't want anyone to hear her. Penelope shot up from her bed and rapidly packed the rest of her belongings in her trunk. She pulled up her hair and wiped her eyes one last time. She looked around the room and laid her eyes on Hermione for a brief moment. And she looked lost. Very, very lost.

"Thanks" she mumbled.

Hermione shook her head, "It was just a simple summoning charm." She yearned and pleaded within herself that she could do something more to ease Penelope's pain and discomfort.

"No, I meant for listening. But please- don't tell anybody. Especially Isabel. It'll only worry her." Penelope gave a small nod and left the room in a flourish. That was the last time Hermione ever saw her roommate.

Hermione sat on her bed and contemplated what the hell just happened. One moment she was bickering with her best friend, and the next her roommate discovered that she was a half-blood the entire time and was forced to leave the Muggleborn dwelling. The thoughts swirled and clashed repeatedly on Hermione's brain, one logic explanation after another. Pretty soon her head hurt, and she didn't feel like going down to the kitchens or the living room to socialize. For some reason she felt sick to her stomach. Maybe it was because she didn't say goodbye? Maybe. So she decided to take a nap, and hoped she'd wake up in time for dinner.

When she woke up, Hermione came to realization that Penelope really was a good person. And that she didn't care that she was going to a place with better food, better education, better working conditions, or better rooming; she was crying because she was leaving the place she her called her home. She cared about it deeply, but more importantly, about the people who lived in it. And almost like an epiphany, Hermione took the piece of crumpled paper from her dresser and tucked it in her pocket. She looked at the time, it was barely seven in the evening. She still had time to go the town's bookstore. It was time to change her future, not just for her sake, but for Penelope's sake as well.

Hermione opened her bedroom window and squeezed out, taking the back way to the streets of the town. Ten minutes later, she could hear and smell the busy shops and stores, the people and the night life. She memorized the address of the book store, it was on the corner of the second block, the one with the shady roof and squeaky sign. It was a mundane tan color and the windows were overwhelmed with books and trinkets of every sort, and it reeked of parchment. To her, it was heaven on earth.

With no fear she opened the door and a faint jingle of the door bell ringed in her ear. She closed the door behind her and reached in her pocket for the piece of paper with the wizards name. As she scanned around the room, she noticed a boy in the corner behind the counter, concentrating on what looked like a chess set- and he looked like he was playing all by himself. Slightly intrigued, Hermione took a step forward quietly, not wanting to disturb his focus. He was tall, thin, a bit muscular for his thinness but not overly so. But his biggest trademark must have been his bright crimson hair, and to Hermione it looked almost fake. He seemed to be debating on where to place his black rook, he kept staring it down and fingers brushed his mouth in deep thought.

"I wouldn't do that," Hermione found herself saying out of nowhere.

His reaction was immediate. The wizard snapped his head up and looked around wildly, nearly falling of his stool. He finally saw a girl near the entrance of the door, biting her lip. She crossed her arms tightly and her face was barely visible with all her thick hair framing it. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was trying to suppress a laugh. He turned his attention back to the board.

"And why not?" he asked in return, a tiny bit annoyed.

"That's going to leave your queen unprotected."

The wizard rolled his eyes. He knew what he was doing, he's only playing chess his entire life. And no one has every had the nerve to contradict him, because all of his family and friends knew he was good at it. But oddly enough, this girl didn't even hesitate to start to directing him in what to do. She was different alright.

"The queen doesn't always need protection. Anyone who actually plays chess would know that," he said more to himself than to his client, trying to brush her off. But Hermione hear him anyway and glared at him.

"I'm just trying to help," Hermione said defensively. She certainly did _not_ like this wizard too much.

"I don't need your help. Thanks." Hermione doubted he was thankful at all. He put all of her weight on her left leg, tapping her foot impatiently. The red head looked up, irritated.

"Bloody hell, are you going to stand their and watch me all day?"

Taken aback at his assertiveness, Hermione shook her head in a non-chalet way and decided to stroll around the store. Everywhere she looked there was something that caught her attention. She was itching to open up a book and immerse herself in the words and passages. Her thirst for knowledge was obvious to Ron, she was practically twirling around the place and stroking the spines of books she crossed.

"Do you need help with something?" the wizard asked in a strained voice. It was almost time to close and he knew it was long walk to his burrow.

Hermione stopped browsing and went to the center of the room to face the boy. It was a custom for Muggleborns to bow to someone who was in a high blood class when they were being directly spoken to. It slipped Hermione's mind when she entered the store. Mostly because she found it degrading in every way. So most reluctantly, Hermione bowed a long sarcastic bow for this pureblood, or half-blood, boy.

When she rose back up, she saw that the boy had an expression that she couldn't read. It wasn't one of smugness, though.

"You don't have to do that. At least not here."

It wasn't clear to Ron if she was Muggleborn or a half-blood but to him it didn't matter at all. Hermione didn't know how to react. For the first time she was at a loss for words, she had not anyone treat like this before- except for Harry. Still at a loss for words, Hermione eyes lingered on the books surrounding her. The boy chuckled.

"So what will it be, Ravenclaw?" Ron mused.

Hermione had no idea as to _what_ in the world a "Ravenclaw" was, but by the context of his tone it did _not _seem like a good thing.

Hermione straightened up and glared at him again, "If you're going to insult me, I'd appreciate it if you'd say it in more casual terms."

The wizard was confused, "Insult- what?" he then figured out what Hermione meant. "Oh. Um, I actually wasn't insulting you, really. It kinda was sort of a compliment... yeah," and his voice trailed off. Hermione saw the tips of his ears turning quite red and tried to not notice. Instead she lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Well, it means 'smart' in a way. I' dunno where it comes from. Just a sort of common term I guess. 'Saw you looking at the books and all." And his voice trailed off again in embarrassment, gesturing the books with his chin.

"Oh," Hermione began awkwardly, "thank you."

The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"Is there a 'Ron Weasley' working here or is he out?" Hermione asked, peering over the counter in search of another worker. It was getting much too awkward for her liking and it was the perfect distraction.

The boy looked a little startled, "Er- yeah. He's here..."

Hermione eyes light up, "Really? Perfect! Can I see him?"

"Well, um, you have been. For the past fifteen minutes."

Hermione's face fell. This was going to be a _long_ night.


End file.
